


Seagulls and Wind

by AnotherWorld3111



Series: Angels and Demons Verse [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Ex-Military Dean Winchester, First Kiss, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Murders, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kinda, M/M, Military Backstory, Military Dean Winchester, Murder, Pre-Slash, Prequel, Weecest, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 10:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13901766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherWorld3111/pseuds/AnotherWorld3111
Summary: Sam wasn't always a leader. He had to climb his way up the ladder for that. And that meant doing things that, while Azazel taught him well, required Dean to pass on tricks he'd learnt from his own trade.Dean wasn't always the Best. But he made sure there wasn't anyone else who could compete for that role either. Not anyone who wasn't his brother.Sam and Dean weren't always SamandDean. Sam had to make that happen by himself as well.Dean didn't complain. Much.~Post Watch Us Burn - Brighter and Stronger. Pre everything else right now~





	Seagulls and Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a load to KaenNoMai, who drives me crazy with her muses and makes me unable to do my homework until I fill out her wonderful ideas.  
> Thanks to tumblr user @Deanwinbean who will always be a welcoming reader, no matter what I write :P And even better, loads of thanks to her for occasionally beta'ing for me.  
> Note: She hasn't finished on this one, and while I'm not pressing her, if she does fix up anything else, I will accordingly edit and repost. Not to worry, they're usually nothing plot sensitive, so that won't be changed unless I smack my head in realization and rush to fix something, in which case I will post another note as to what has been changed. But they're all usually just grammatical stuff and other things that help make this story a lot better to read than the rough drafts I lazily slap on here.  
> Now that that's out of the way, and I'm sorry y'all had to scroll for as long as you did to just get to the story and ignore all this, hope you enjoy some bad ass Weecesters.

  He’d been trailing Azazel for one year before Azazel took him under his wing. 

  Sam would forever have the scars to show what he had to do to prove his ‘loyalty.’ 

  As an eleven year old, it was easy for Azazel to send him off to do the work his giant brutes of bodyguards couldn’t. Three years there, and Sam felt safe enough to say that he probably had gained a better understanding of what went on at the docks than Azazel himself. Smuggling wasn’t the only thing he’d become a pro at. There was a lot information one could gain when eavesdropping, made more easily so when one was a seemingly unassuming child, Sam had soon found out. ‘Course, when Azazel got his suspicions that Sam was actually much more smarter than he’d been letting them know, he decided to up the game.

  He was bait first. Luring the clients who’d gotten on Lucifer’s bad side to dark alleyways, promising a cheap but best lay they could hope for. By the time they were at the dumpster, they’d be missing several limbs. The head may or may not have been included in that list. 

  Azazel’s bodyguards made sure of that. But only at first. The pocketknife Sam forever carried, etched with letters that meant more to him than the ones in his own name, was upgraded to a sturdier machete, hidden under the clothes Sam was forced to purchase.

  Watching his first head roll over the dirty alleyway floor should have been sickening. Instead, Sam could only find himself snarling at the corpse.

  No one got to touch him like that. No one but Dean.

  And yet, when Dean came back, Sam still wasn’t touched in the way he wanted to be.

oOo

  Let it not be said that Alastair was an easy-going man. 

  Actually, anyone who said that would find themselves with a loudly laughing Dean in their faces, shortly before he punched them, all traces of mirth gone.

  But for all his misgivings - and there were many, Dean couldn’t help but admit that the man taught him more than what Dean would have expected himself to know. ‘Course, he’d only admit that over Alastair’s dead body. 

  Which he did.

  Being sent back - instead of to - the army at eighteen, with many medals ready to be attached to his name, it was one of Alastair’s many methods he’d taught himself that Dean applied to ensure that all traces of him would be completely gone. 

  The deaths of his fellow army men weren’t ones he would mourn. The world was a better place without the likes of Gordon Walker.

oOo

  “Gonna give me a good time, aren’t ya?” Sam rolled his eyes. The man behind him continued to make lewd comments, groaning and rubbing at his still clothed dick. 

  Approaching the end of the alleyway first, Sam took a moment to take a deep breath, facing the brick wall. He filled his nostrils with the pungent smell of scat, urine, booze, and the more distant stink of fish from the ocean. 

  “C’mon kid, come to daddy.” Barely stifling a groan, Sam made it quick in one movement. 

  The guy’s head was rolling before he knew what struck him. 

  “Jeez.” He finally took the chance to throw the corpse a look of disgust. He lifted the blade, wiping it on the inside of his shirt to hide the bloodstain. 

  “Nice strike.”

  Sam gasped, head shooting up. Sure enough, Dean revealed himself from where he’d been previously leaning against the grimy alleyway wall, hidden by the darkness. 

  “Dean!” Dropping the machete carelessly to the ground, Sam ran forward. 

  Sam collided into him, squeezing Dean in a tight hug and punching the breath out of him. Taking a moment to regain his breath, Dean’s arms finally came to wrap around Sam, a low chuckle vibrating through his chest. Sam relished the sensation. 

  “Easy there, tiger.” Dean whispered. He bent down to press a kiss on Sam’s head, hugging Sam tighter.

  For the longest moment, Sam stayed silent. Not trusting himself to speak without letting Dean hear how choked up he was, he waited. When his throat was under control, he turned to muffle his next words into Dean’s jacket. “I missed you.”

  Of course, his brother heard him anyway. Dean sighed, his body moving with the gesture. “I missed you too, kiddo.”

oOo

  They had to dispose of the body first. Dean helped Sam to speed up the process, and very unwillingly, Sam left his brother alone to report to Azazel. Not without getting a solid promise from Dean that he wasn’t going anywhere though. After that, it was back to the docks, because unfortunately, he couldn’t just ask Azazel for the day off because his brother was back from the army. That was as good as asking for four years - and possibly more - of work to come tumbling down. 

  By nightfall though, with Sam stationed as the lookout, Dean melted out of the shadows, joining Sam atop one of the larger crates. Mirroring Sam’s position, he got onto his stomach, scooting until his side was flush against Sam’s.

  Sam immediately rolled over, forcing Dean to lean to the side so that Sam could nestle up to his chest. Huffing a laugh, Dean relented easily, wrapping his arms around his brother. Sam would never admit it, but the shared body heat made him feel warm in a way that he never had been in four years.

  “How was the army?” Sam asked, after a while of just taking in the scent and feel of his brother.

  Dean let out a groan. “Horrible. The men are so overbearing sometimes, acting like self-righteous dicks.” Dean paused. For a second, all Sam could hear was the wind underlying Dean’s breathing, seagulls calling out in the distance, before he spoke again. “But not everyone was so bad. There were a few guys that… I told them I’d keep in touch.”

  Which, in Dean talk, meant that they must have seriously bonded, for Dean to consider enlisting them for help in the future.

  Sam hummed. “And…” He dreaded to ask, but it was the reason Dean had enlisted anyway, wasn’t it? “The training?”

  Dean’s breathing didn’t falter. He didn’t stiffen. For all intents and purposes, there weren’t any outwardly visible changes in Dean, but Sam knew he hit a sore spot. A spot, that unfortunately, had to be addressed. They couldn’t - didn’t - keep any secrets from each other for a reason.

  “It was torturous.” When Dean replied, his voice was low. Sam got the feeling, with the way Dean suddenly hunched inwards, cradling Sam closer, that this was the first time Dean let himself think about it, much less talk openly. “Alastair - our commander… God, Sammy, working under him was  _ hell.  _ I swear, he’s worse than--” Dean faltered, before regaining his composure. “Even the death I gave him seems merciful. That’s all I’ll say, alright?”

  His insides had gone cold over Dean’s small speech. By the end of it, Sam had tangled their limbs together to the point that they couldn’t even tell where one ended and the other began. Yet even then, Sam longed to be closer to his brother, to comfort him, to chase away all the pain Dean had to endure. If only there was a way Dean could retain the knowledge without having to undergo what he had, Sam would have done whatever needed to be done in a heartbeat.

  “Okay,” he said, sniffing. Sam nuzzled Dean until the collar of his shirt slipped, letting Sam nose at his brother’s neck. He ignored the small hitch in Dean’s breath then, but let a small smile slip past his lips anyway. “God, Dean, missed you so much. Four years, felt like forever, Dean. Felt like forty. Like an eternity.”

  Dean let out a strained chuckle. “Tell me about it.” His fingers dug into Sam’s side, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

  “I don’t want you to leave me again.” Sam confessed. He swallowed, his hands drifting under Dean’s shirt to grab ahold of the skin there.

  “Sam… you know there are gonna be times - especially when things move on--”

  “I know!” Sam inhaled sharply. He’d gotten too carried away, let his voice rise too much. Hastily lowering it, he wantonly dug his nails into Dean’s skin, smirking at the hiss Dean let out. But then he frowned, when he realized the skin under his nails wasn’t smooth. He knew that texture. Was, in fact, far too familiar with it for comfort.

  Scar tissue.

  Feeling bile rise in his throat, he swiftly pulled out his nails, wincing this time when Dean’s fingers twitched at his sides. Wiping at the area with apologetic fingers, Sam continued. “I know - but Dean. You were gone, and I was alone. I was worried, Dean. You might be the best, God, probably better than everyone, but you were in the army, Dean! Anything could have happened, and I was so worried - so, worried that--”

  “Hey, hey, hey.” Dean bent down, lifting his hand to Sam’s chin to make him meet his eyes. “I’m flattered you think I’m the best, really. But-screw all that. I’m here, aren’t I? If I managed to evade some grenades, you’d think I’d be able to take everyone down when I’m not even on the actual battlefield.” He swiped his fingers over Sam’s chin, before pausing. Slowly, he raised his hand to stroke Sam’s cheek. Sam didn’t dare to breathe. “If anything, it’s you who’s gonna be out there. I’m gonna have to watch you from behind the scenes, and it’s gonna be my turn to be scared out of my wits.”

  Sam leaned into Dean’s palm then. “You don’t have to be worried. Not when I’m gonna be trained by and looked out for by the best of the best ever.” He said proudly.

  Dean smirked at that. “Damn right I am.” He said softly. He was still stroking Sam’s cheek. Silence had descended upon them, and not for the first time, Sam was abruptly made all too aware of how close they were, how he could practically feel Dean’s breath fanning across his face. When Dean’s eyes flickered to Sam’s mouth before looking back up, it was a move so quick that it could have easily been missed. But Sam didn’t.

  For him, it was all the sign he needed. 

  Sam surged up, connecting his lips to Dean’s.

  Dean immediately stiffened. At first, Sam could feel his fingers, when they started to move, make an attempt to push him away. But in a fit of desperation, Sam hitched his leg up higher, and thrusted.

  Dean pulled his head back, and let out an undisguised groan of lust. He still had a death grip on Sam’s hips, and he knew there would be bruises there later. But he wasn’t concerned about that. If anything, he absolutely salivated at the idea. 

  But when Dean looked back at him, he looked too coherent for Sam’s comfort.

  “Sam, I don’t know what the fuck you’ve been inhaling at the docks, but you can’t--”

  “Like you couldn’t stop yourself from touching me every chance you got when we were younger?” A low blow. But if it worked at shutting Dean up, and possibly swaying him, then Sam was going to avoid lingering on that. “You can’t tell me you don’t want this. You can’t tell me it’s wrong, ‘cause who’s gonna say anything, huh? No one knows we’re brothers, Dean - no one even knows you! And chances are, they never will! So let me have this. Just.” Sam stopped. He didn’t want to say this, because he knew it was going to hurt. And he didn’t want it to hurt Dean, not like this. But if the only other option was to suffer in silence, then Sam didn’t want to be a coward. If the past four years on the docks had taught him something, this was it.

  “I don’t want anything happening with the knowledge that I never got to have this. That  _ we, _ never got to have this. Just because of some bullshit rule that frankly, no one will ever give to cents about.”

  Dean’s breath hitched. Sam knew he understood what he didn’t say. “Don’t say that.” Dean whispered, pleading. Sam refused to budge. 

  “It’s the truth. And somewhere in there, I know you feel the same too, Dean.”

  Dean clenched his teeth, closing his eyes. He noted how he didn’t deny Sam’s claims. Slowly, so as to let Dean sense him, he leaned forward, and pressed his lips to Dean’s again, softer this time.

  For a moment, everything was silent. Sam couldn’t hear anything - not the wind, not the seagulls, not even Dean’s breathing. Everything was muffled, his ears blocking the noises out.

  Gradually, Dean responded.

**Author's Note:**

> I've got another one written and completed, but I'm waiting on KaenNoMai for verification that all is well, because it's kinda short (what happens when she doesn't prompt me but I was desperate to write) Like, really, short. But I will.. maybe post it... tomorrow?  
> Update: Edited, (thank you loads @Deanwinbean!!) posted the short one, and working on another one, so keep your eyes peeled for that one and updates on _another_ one after that ;)


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